


Truth or Dare

by Athaia



Category: Planet of the Apes (TV)
Genre: Bad Poetry, Burke may be bi, Chickens, Community: smallfandomfest, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, Gen, Humor, Or maybe he's just taking the piss out of Virdon, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athaia/pseuds/Athaia
Summary: Burke organizes a jug of moonshine from the villagers, but the party games soon get out of hand...
Relationships: Alan Virdon & Pete Burke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Small Fandoms Fest





	Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> This is set between chapters 3 and 4 of [The Cure,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002675/chapters/29732577) because I'm unable to get my head out of my own fanon now, but true to the prompter's request, no OCs make an appearance; Zana is only mentioned.

The clear liquid in the bottles had already taken on a brown hue; when Galen sniffed at it, though, he still could only detect the sharp sting of alcohol, and no trace of the bitter aroma of the worm wood soaking in it. With a frown, he put the bottle back in its place: a sunny spot in his makeshift doctor’s office, safely tucked away from clumsy human feet.

According to his scrolls, the herbs needed to steep in alcohol for at least a whole moon cycle before the tincture was potent enough to use. Galen snorted softly as he put away his stethoscope and gathered his scrolls: he didn’t have a full moon cycle before he had to present evidence to Kanla that his treatment was successful. And with Urko’s arrival, that time frame had probably shrunk even more. 

The heavy curtain that separated his office from the rest of the barn-turned-hospital was pushed aside, and a very tired looking human limped in, leaning heavily on his crutch. In his free hand, he carried a flat earthen bowl; thick clouds of white smoke wafted from it, carrying a scent of burnt hay that scratched Galen’s throat. 

He flapped his hands to dispel the stink somewhat. “What in the White W—” He coughed. “What  _ is _ this, Alan? Take it outside!”

“Fumigation,” Alan said, coughing a bit himself. “To drive out the mosquitos. It also helps against bed bugs, in case—“

“There are neither mosquitos nor bed bugs in here,” Galen assured him. He snatched the bowl from Alan’s hand, threw the smoldering contents out the window, and shoved the container into a shelf behind his desk. 

When he looked up, the human was gaping at him; it occurred to Galen that his reaction had maybe been a bit harsh.

“I... I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly embarrassed, “it... was a long day.”

Alan sighed, and sat down in the visitors’ chair across from him. “Ain’t that the truth,” he agreed. “Everyone’s tucked in for the night, at least, and people are sleeping better, unless I’m imagining things... but I think the tincture’s working.”

Galen flicked a glance at the bottles in the corner and made a noncommittal sound in his throat. He had been thinking the same — the last night was the first since their arrival during which neither Alan nor Peet had come to wake him to take care of some emergency or other — but it was too soon to celebrate. And he didn’t dare putting too much hope on his unfinished tincture yet. Maybe it was simply the alcohol that put people to sleep...

As if his last thought had conjured him, the curtain was pushed aside a second time, and Peet appeared, looking almost as tired as Alan, but in a decidedly better mood. He was carrying a big jug.  “Don’t start your party without me, guys!”  He put the jug down on the desk with a thump. “Not when I’ve got the good stuff!”

“What’s this?” — “What party?”

Peet softly knocked at the jug with his knuckles. “We’ve been working our asses off for days now, an’ for what? Shitty food an’ no sleep. We’ve earned ourselves a little work bonus, dontcha think? I organized a bit of moonshine, so we can put up our poor feet an’ relax.”

Galen had mentioned the alcohol that the humans were making — illegally, of course — to Alan because he needed it for his tincture, and because Alan had an idea how to extract the plant’s essence by the same technique, but he hadn’t found it necessary to inform Peet of its existence; after all, you didn’t need alcohol for digging ditches... or graves. But apparently, Alan had talked. The two humans didn’t keep any secrets from each other. 

“We need the alcohol for the tinctures, Peet,” he pointed out. “It’s not for... partying. Put it back from where you took it.”

Peet snorted and sat on the edge of the desk; he made no move to pick up the jug and return it. “Believe me, doc, these guys know how to turn corn into schnapps — there’s more of the stuff stored here than you’ll ever need for your herbs. Anyway, it’s disinfectant, right? So we’ll use it  _ medicinally.” _ He waggled his eyebrows.

Alan seemed to be as skeptical as himself, Galen thought when he saw how warily the human eyed the jug. “We have no choice but to use it for the tincture,” Alan said, “but why should  _ we _ voluntarily take the risk to go blind? We can’t know how much methanol is in there.”

Peet hopped down from the desk and went to get three mugs. “Bullshit,” he said when he returned. “None of your guinea pigs out there have gone blind or mad... or hairy.” He grinned. “You’re just afraid you’ll get stone drunk and spill some dirty secrets from your dark past.” He filled the first mug to the brim and pushed it across the desk to where Alan was sitting.

Alan snorted and picked up the mug to sniff at it. “I have no dark secrets to spill.” He sipped at it, then tilted his head back and emptied the rest of his drink in one draw. 

Galen suddenly found the second mug in front of him, the clear liquid in it sloshing against the rim. When he looked up, Peet was grinning at him over the rim of his own mug. “What about you, buddy?” the human asked. “Any secrets you wanna keep secret? Or is your heart as pure as this hooch?”

Alan was watching him, too, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips. Galen closed his fingers around the mug, feeling a sudden, irrational stab of annoyance. “The only secret I’m hiding is the one you’re all a part of,” he said haughtily as he lifted the mug to his lips. “Besides, apes don’t get drunk from human beverages.”

The moonshine burned its way from his throat to his stomach, where it dissolved into a warm glow that was very pleasant. Galen suppressed the urge to cough, and shoved his mug back towards the jug. “See?”

Pete grinned and filled all their mugs again. “Ah, doc, we haven’t even started yet...”

* * *

Several  _ atseht  _ later — at least Galen thought so, it was dark outside — he was satisfied to note that apes did, indeed, not get drunk from human liquor. True, everything that had happened longer ago than five  _ parseht _ vanished into some kind of void, and when he turned his head too fast his eyes tended to unfocus, but as long as he stayed inside this bright, sane bubble of  _ Now _ , everything was fine. He was in control of his reasoning, and his perceptions were utterly sharp and clear.

The humans, on the other hand... 

They had started out with something Peet called a  _ toast,  _ a word from their own language that denoted a ritual drink in honor of someone. To his surprise, the first person Peet had insisted in honoring thus had been Urko. 

“To... the Chief General of the Simian Police Force,” Peet had declared, raising his mug. Alan had raised his brows at that, but had raised his mug, too, so Galen hadn’t had a choice but to also raise his mug in greeting. 

“May the ol’ shithead fall off his horse and break his fucking neck,” Peet had concluded, and gulped down his drink. 

“Hear, hear,” Alan had muttered, and followed suit. 

Galen had just emptied his mug without comment.

Next, Alan had struggled to his feet — the ritual demanded that the  _ toast _ was said while standing, for some reason — and raised his newly-filled mug. “To Zana,” he had declared, “who gave up everything to save our lives. May she stay safe, and... and... find happiness in her new life beyond the mountains.”

“To Zana!” Peet and Galen had cried, and tossed back their drinks. 

“Your turn, Galen,” Peet had said, but Galen had drawn a blank at first, and when he stood up, he felt slightly dizzy. 

“Uhm, uhm...” he had hedged. “To a safe journey for all of us and a... a happy ending.”

“Amen,” Alan had sighed, and had drunk his liquor slowly. Peet had just shaken his head with a grin, and had emptied his mug as fast as the ones before. 

They had simply continued drinking after that, reminiscing about the events of their travels so far, with Peet steadily refilling their mugs. The humans’ speech had become more slurred, then more carefully pronounced to counteract that tendency, and Alan had become quieter and quieter, staring morosely into his cup. Galen suspected that his fair-colored human was doing some reminiscing of his own, yearning for the family he had lost. 

Peet noticed the dark cloud above his friend’s head, too, and was having none of it. “Okay, time for party games! Galen, you know any drinking games?”

Galen mutely shook his head. He felt tired — more tired — by now, and secretly yearned for his bed. He wasn’t going to provide Peet with inspirational tales from his wild student days with Ango, or this night would never end.

Not that his veiled obstruction could stop Peet when he was in full swing.

“We’re gonna play Truth or Dare,” Peet decided. “You tell me if you wanna answer a question truthfully, or do what I’ll tell you to do.”

“Why would I ever agree to such a thing?” Galen asked, bemused.

“’cause you’re not a dirty coward?” Peet said, all sweetness and innocence.

Later, Galen suspected that the human-made alcohol  _ might _ have impaired his judgment, after all. In that moment, though, it seemed that he could only avert the verdict of being a dirty coward if he agreed to the challenge the human had set him. 

He drew himself up to full height in his chair. “A-alright, but I won’t hop around the room on one foot ann’ sing a song, or... what’vver stupid challenge you thought up.”

Peet grinned. “So, truth an’ nothin’ but the truth, huh? You’re lucky that Al over there gets to ask the first question, an’ not me.”

Galen blinked, then glanced at Alan who was staring at him with the intensity of inebriation, apparently trying to come up with a question that would thoroughly embarrass his simian companion. Galen steeled himself and took another draw from his mug.

“What. Do you. Regret  _ most _ ... in your life?” Alan finally asked, and Peet exploded in a mixture of sigh and laughter. 

“Meeting us,” he snorted, and reached for the jug.

Galen sighed. As far as he knew, he had no big, terrible secrets to confess. He mentally rifled through the catalog of his sins — more a leaflet, really — trying to decide which of them would satisfy the humans sufficiently to direct their attention elsewhere. Faking his father’s signature to raise his allowance so he could pay a lost bet to Ango? That one time they sneaked a cow into the dean’s office? Or that Ango had sworn him to secrecy about smuggling  _ Blaze  _ into his famously wild parties? And he had never told anyone about it, although he  _ should _ absolutely have told the police.

But the first two were too harmless, and the third wasn’t entirely his own secret to keep, and after Ango had helped them save Peet’s life by hiding them in the monastery, Galen felt even less inclined to break his silence. Besides, if he was completely honest with himself, he didn’t actually  _ regret _ any of these things. 

No, it had to be something else — something that was harmless, but sounded scandalous, something that would shock the humans, but was in reality really inconsequential. 

“Well, actually,” he took a dainty sip from his mug, “to be completely... utterly... honest, sometimes I do think about my home back in the City. I slept in a soft bed every night, I ate good food every day, I had a very comfortable workplace...”

“Until you nabbed Zaius’ favorite human book...” Peet interjected, grinning.

“Well, yes,” Galen admitted. “And here I am. And now it’s time for Alan to confess a hard truth.” He looked expectantly at the human, eager for someone else to be the center of attention.

Alan sighed and stared into his mug. “I regret not listening to Sally,” he muttered. “She had a bad feeling about this mission. She wanted me to refuse ANSA’s request.”

“Bu... but then I’d be on this shitty planet all on my own!” Peet protested. “No offense,” he added towards Galen. Galen just shrugged and sipped his liquor. Peet’s attitude towards his world was an open secret.

Alan shrugged, too. “Nah,” he said, “Jones wanted you out, and he was backed by Hasslein. Without me, you wouldn’t have been on that flight, either.”

“Well thanks for nothing, I guess,” Peet muttered and refilled all their mugs.

“Your turn,” Galen nudged him. 

“Yeah, yeah.” But Peet didn’t say anything, just knocked back his drink. When he put it back on the table with a cough, his eyes were a bit glassy. Couldn’t stomach the human liquor as well as an ape, Galen thought smugly.

Peet cleared his throat. Galen wanted to believe that he was about to spill a deep, dark secret, but there was a mischievous glint in the human’s eyes that told him otherwise.

“I really regret that I have these strong moral values...” He slurped at his drink, obviously enjoying his friends’ stares. ”... an’ they don’t allow me to, uh, jus’ give in to my impulses.”

Alan choked on his drink. Galen very carefully set his mug on the table. “Forgive me,” he said, “but that’s really not how I’d describe you.”

“Tha’s because you don’ really know me,” Peet said gravely.

Alan was still coughing up his drink. Galen shook his head.

“So what impulse did you not give in to?” he asked. “Because I can’t think of any.”

Peet hesitated. “Didn’t kill Urko when he was in that hole with Al.” He frowned into his mug. “Should’ve done it. Come to think of it, that’s what I regret the most.”

Galen had a feeling that Peet had changed course at the last moment, and that he had wanted to say something else, but whatever it was, the human would never admit to it. So he just remarked, “I think it was Nelva’s gun that stopped you, not your moral inhibitions.”

Peet just grinned, and began to thump Alan’s back, which was supposed to help him stop coughing up his lungs, but didn’t, and Galen helped himself to another drink, still wondering what Peet had actually meant to say.

* * *

By the time the jug had become noticeably lighter, and the conversation noticeably erratic, Galen had to admit to himself that the human brew did have some potency. He was feeling a slight buzz, quite pleasant, actually, and his thoughts tended to wander off on their own if he didn’t consciously keep track of them. 

The humans were playing a drinking game that consisted of hand signs that had a certain hierarchy, and the loser was obliged to down his drink in one go, which didn’t improve the motor skills needed to make the signs. Predictably, lengthy discussions over who had won broke out in every round. Galen had been invited to join, but he couldn’t make sense of the rules, and also couldn’t make his fingers obey anymore to form the signs.

So he just idly listened to Peet arguing with Alan whether or not a ‘paper’ was really superior to a ‘rock’ — Peet claimed that a rock would smash right through a piece of paper, and demanded that Galen provide one of his scrolls for a demonstration, a demand that Galen immediately shot down — and watched his thoughts float by. 

For some reason, Kira emerged in his mind’s eye, and he wondered what had brought up that memory. He had never really thought about Kira after he had met Zana, except for the time they had spent in her clinic, hoping for her to save Alan’s life. 

But other than that... and of course he had never mentioned her to Zana, except when they had to seek out the clinic, of course, and then Zana hadn’t really liked Kira much, which in hindsight proved that not mentioning her had been the right decision... not that it had been a conscious decision...

And now Zana was in his thoughts, all alone in Trion, only a few houses away from Urko — Urko, who had swarmed the place with his men, and if only one of them saw her... caught a glimpse of her behind a window, or in the garden...

Galen’s heart began to race as his wayward imagination began to show him vision after gruesome vision of what could —  _ would —  _ happen to his mate if Urko discovered that she was lodging in the same town as him. The more he contemplated Zana’s inevitable fate, her defiance, her fear, her agony when Urko would start torturing her, the faster his heart pumped his blood into his body, until the pleasant buzzing in his head had turned into a pulsing throb:  _ Find her — save her — find her — save her — _

He jumped up, startling the humans. “I need to go.”

Alan blinked watery eyes at him. “Wha’...? Go where?”

“To town! I need to ssave Zana!” Galen grabbed the table’s edge to stop swaying; he felt hot under his robe. Time was running out while he was debating his decision with  _ humans,  _ of all things. 

“S-save her from what?” Alan rubbed his eyes. “Sit down, have another—“

“From Urko! Cesar, Alan, you are  _ drunk!”  _ Galen let go of the table’s edge, then hastily reached for it again to steady himself. Should he bring a weapon? His knives...? Maybe he could surprise Urko in his sleep...

“Calm down, buddy,” Peet slurred. “The black menace’s ‘sleep. Zana’s ‘sleep. She’ll be  _ pissed _ if you come’n wake her up inne middle offe night...”

“You. Are  _ both  _ drunk,” Galen said, disgusted. He carefully pronounced every word, because he wasn’t drunk at all, and  _ perfectly  _ capable of speaking clearly. “Look at you... I, I need to see if everything is alright with her. You just... stay, and sleep off your, your in-e-bri-ation!”

Peet just gaped at him, “my inn-ne... what?  We’re not done with the game yet, Galen, we still gotta play the ‘Dare’ parts...”

Alan pushed himself upright. “I’m coming with you!” He turned to the protesting Peet, wobbling a bit as he did so. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you something to ‘dare’ on the way.”

Galen waved him off. “No, no need to, Alan, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” Alan declared with profound dignity. “Someone needs to guard your... thing... your rear...”

Peet snorted with laughter, but Alan ignored him. “Ann’ is probly a good occasion to check the parameter.”

Now Peet was laughing openly. “The wha’?”

Alan frowned, swaying on his feet  . “The para... The perimeter.”

Peet was still chuckling. “Yeah. Yeah. I, I’ll come with ya.” He came to his feet, swaying a bit more than Alan, and slapped his shoulder. “I’m gonna guard  _ your  _ rear, Al, dontcha worry!”

Galen glared at them both. “You are  _ drunk.  _ You’re absolu...lutely useless right now!”

“You’re drunk, too!”

Galen sniffed. ”I’m not. As I said, I’m not affected by this... moonlight stuff.”

“Whatever... you coming, or not?” Peet was already halfway to the door.  “Wha’s your dare, Al? An’ don’ go easy on me!”

“Why would I?” Alan limped after him. “Don’ worry, I’ll make this painful. I dare you to... uh... recite a poem.”

“A  _ what?” _

Galen shrugged. If the humans insisted on stumbling along in their sorry state, there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe they’d fall asleep in a ditch before they reached the quarantine border.

It was when he stepped outside into the cool, moist night air that the effect of the booze hit him with full force. A sudden spell of dizziness made him stumble, and if Alan hadn’t caught his arm, he’d fallen face-first into the mud. “Not drunk, eh?” Alan murmured with a chuckle, and Galen decided not to grace him with an answer. 

He didn’t shake off the human’s supporting hand, though. 

Soon, he had the opportunity to pay the help forward when Peet tilted dangerously far to his left, and then they were all propping each other up as they weaved their way through the village gate and onto the dirt track that led back to Trion. 

The moon was almost full — or maybe it had just been full, Galen never paid that much attention to the phases, but in any case, it was sufficient to light the way. The night was filled with the sounds of the swamps’ nocturnal wildlife: the croaking of frogs, hooting of owls, the eerie, fluting calls of some night bird.

And Peet’s declamation of poetry.

“I once met a girl from Mercury

she was wearing the flimsiest of lingery

but although she was hot, ann’ we fu— kissed a whole lot

she couldn’t compete with Uranus.”

Beside him, Alan groaned. Galen thought it was pretty impressive how Peet had translated one of his poems into simian language on the spot, even if it was riddled with strange names. He wanted to ask him about them, but Peet had already progressed to the next verse.

“There was also tha’ girl from Venus

She w’s hot, ann’ really spontaneous.

Had a lot of cool toys, ann’ was nice to the boys,

but Venus is still not Ur _anus.”_

“I meant painful for you, not for us,” Alan muttered. Peet cackled.

“Are these place names from your home?” Galen hastened to ask before Peet could inflict the next verse on them. 

“Names of planets,” Alan waved his hand dismissively. “Look, he’s juss...s making up some silly rhymes—“ 

“I once met a sweet girl from Mars,” Peet crowed, “who showed me the best local bars. We got  _ really _ drunk, ann’ I slept in her bunk,” he slung his arm across Alan’s shoulders, and murmured in his ear, “an’ I dreamed horny dreams of Uranus.”

Alan shook him off and batted at his head. Peet evaded, stumbled sideways, then caught himself. He was snorfing — a strange cross between snorting and sniffing. 

“So, uh,” Galen said, feeling that he was missing something here, “Uranus is also the name of a planet?”

_ “Yes!”  _ both men said in unison, but Peet was still chuckling. “Wanna know the rest of the song?”

“It’s a song?” Galen said, surprised.

“Well, yeah, but I’m not allowed to sing, thanks to you two party poopers!” Peet’s voice sounded pouting, but then it changed its tone back to drunk perkiness. “Anyway!

“I remember the sisters from Jupiter!

They were like Cupid and Cupid-er

We got into a threesome, but they didn’ let me come—“

_ “Enough already, Pete!” _

_ ”...  _ and I thought oh my god where’s Uranus?” Peet continued, unimpressed by his friend’s protest. 

Galen tried to make sense of the verse, but found it difficult to get his foggy brain to focus. “Wha’ss so special about that girl from Uranus?” 

Peet jumped out of Alan’s reach, still snorting. “They’re... they’re... they’re...  _ very _ special, Galen. Right, Al?”

“Your conduct is, is highly inappo... popriate... Major,” Alan huffed. “Tha’s not how you talk to your superior officer.”

“I’m off duty, an’ so’re you, bud,” Peet said, hooking his arm once more across Alan’s shoulders. “This’ss not Kansas anymore.” 

“I’m married, y’know,” Alan declared earnestly and Galen desperately searched for something, anything, to change the subject, before Alan remembered that his wife had died a thousand years ago, and fell into his desolate brooding again. But his addled brain only clung to the question how many verses Peet knew, and what they were. 

As if he had sensed his curiosity, Peet — still hugging the suddenly somber Alan — began reciting the next verse. Curiously his slur almost vanished during his recitations: 

“Then I met a strict girl on Saturn

I’m sure you notice a pattern

She liked to spank my behind, an’ I did hers in kind,

but the whole time I thought of Uranus...”

He fell silent; after a moment, Galen dared to ask, “How... how doess’e song end?”

Peet shrugged. “Tha’s it. Tha’s all. Poor guy ne’er made it to Uranus.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Galen felt disappointed. “Why not?”

Peet slapped Alan’s shoulder. “Got no permission to land. Place was  _ quarantined.” _

Alan snorted. “Damn right it was.” At least he didn’t seem to mourn his lost wife now — Peet’s poetry had apparently distracted him enough.

Galen frowned. “Whyyy’ou so glad tha’ Uranus was closed off?” 

He gave up when Peet broke down howling with laughter, but was denied an explanation by either human. Silly human jokes. He really shouldn’t bother about them. 

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Trion’s town gate was closed for the night. Even Central City didn’t allow nightly visitors, and it was the hub of civilization; there was no reason to expect the towns in the outer provinces to be more lenient in that regard. Galen stared mutely at the stockade rising before him, silvered black in the moonlight. 

Zana was somewhere behind that wall. Hopefully safe — but how could she be, with that Gorilla scheming nearby? 

“So whasse plan, Commander Galen?” Peet’s voice was a loud whisper in the chirping, squawking darkness. Galen flinched; it seemed to him that every guard behind that stockade must’ve heard the human.

“I, I dunno... Zana... there muss’ be another way to get in ann’ out,” he finally managed. “Zana came visit us twice, af’erall...”

He almost fell on his face when Peet unexpectedly slapped him hard between the shoulderblades. “Genius idea, pal,” he praised him in the same loud whisper. “Le’ss have a look!”

There was indeed a small gate a way off the main gate, and despite Peet’s compromised state and the weak light, the human managed to fumble the lock open and let them inside. Their drunk luck held; the gate wasn’t watched. Maybe this was the gate Zana had used, too.

The humans were thankfully silent as the three of them stumbled around in the darkness trying to find Tilan’s house. Galen wanted to kick himself for having taken off in a huff — he hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings then, and he had no idea which of the dark and silent buildings belonged to the guard who played host to his fiancée.

His head throbbed almost as bad as his feet now, and a slight nausea had lodged in his stomach and tried to get his attention. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Maybe they should go back to the village before some guard on night duty caught sight of them. He’d just have to take care that when Zana came to visit them the next time, he’d get hold of her before Peet could, and tell her not to listen to the human because he’d gotten it all wrong about Kira...

Peet’s muttered curse and something sleepily clucking jerked him out of his brooding. Peet had wandered off to somewhere without him noticing. 

“Pete, what the hell are you up to now?” Alan sounded as if he was suppressing laughter, which was  _ very  _ untypical for him.

“Tha’s a henhouse _in_ _town!”_ Peet sounded incredulous.

“Yeah, so?”

_ “Inside  _ the fuckin’ town!”

Galen didn’t try to understand why that fact amazed Peet so much. People kept chickens, just like they had gardens. It didn’t seem to faze Alan, so it couldn’t be a human thing.

“Yeah, so?”

Alan’s offhand reaction seemed to shut Peet up. “Wanted some eggs for breakfast,” he mumbled after a moment. 

The smell of fried eggs filled Galen’s nose in a vivid olfactory vision that made him gag. “I can’t find Zana’s house,” he said miserably. “Le’ss go back before... something happens.” He turned around, and to his surprise, the humans followed without arguing.

“You got some eggs?” he heard Alan murmur behind him.

“No.”

“Pity.”

Galen decided to ignore the whispered chatter. He needed to find the way back to the small gate, and he couldn’t remember if they had taken a turn to the right or the left at this crossing. His nausea was distracting him; he hoped he wouldn’t have to throw up in front of the humans.

His decision turned out to be wrong; they suddenly found themselves faced with the green-and-black lantern that illuminated the door of Trion’s watchhouse.

“Ugh,” Peet commented, and Galen silently agreed. He took a step back into the shadows of the alley they had just emerged from.

And bumped into the humans’s chest. Peet hadn’t moved. He stared at the building with a peculiar expression. 

“Peet...”

“Ya think Urko’s in there?” The human’s eyes were riveted at the watchhouse. 

Galen grabbed his arm. “No! Ann’ if yes, more reason to leave quickly!”

“Imma have a look.” 

Before Galen could react, Peet had jerked his arm out of his grip, and had jogged across the plaza and up the two steps to the entrance. Galen threw a desperate look to Alan. “Do something!”

But Alan just blinked at him. “Hmm?”

Drunk! Alan was drunk like a... like a drunk human! Disgusted, and frightened, Galen hurried after Peet, who had meanwhile opened the door and vanished into the darkness behind it.

The corridor was silent and empty, without a trace of Peet anywhere. Galen stopped and strained his ears, but couldn’t hear anything.

He almost jumped out of his fur when a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Night watch guys are sleeping,” Peet whispered into his ear. “You’re  _ loud,  _ Galen my man.”

Fur bristling, Galen tore Peet’s hand from his mouth. “You’re  _ insane,  _ Peet! We leave  _ now!” _

To his eternal relief, Peet followed him outside, but the feeling evaporated when the human declared with a glint in his eye, “Al, I gotta prank these motherfuckers! They’re all asleep in there!”

Alan’s teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and Galen realized with growing horror that he was grinning. Alan, level-headed, calm, cautious Alan... it wasn’t possible.

He began to appreciate why alcohol was forbidden for humans under penalty of death. It really played havoc with their weak minds.

“Any ideas?” Alan was saying.

“Yeah.” Peet didn’t elaborate, but he took off into the darkness with alarming confidence, as if he knew exactly where he was going. He didn’t even sway that much — maybe that  _ adrenaline _ the humans invoked so often was mitigating the effects of the alcohol.

Or maybe the two compounded each other, making the humans even more reckless. Either way, Galen had no choice but to follow them.

They stopped at the henhouse that had fascinated Peet so much. After a whispered conversation among each other, the humans climbed over the fence and vanished into the shed, while Galen nervously shifted from one foot to the other and wondered if now was a good time to throw up. 

They returned within mere moments, their shirts suspiciously bulging and clucking. 

“What...” Galen said.

“To the watchhouse!”

Again, Galen had no choice but to hurry after the energized humans. To his relief, they passed by the main entrance this time. 

This time, they were headed for the stables. 

“What...” Galen panted.

He couldn’t see what the humans were doing in the darkness. He heard metal clinking, horses snorting, suppressed giggling, and confused clucking. 

Then Peet and Alan appeared in the stable gate, each leading four horses. Their hooves had been wrapped with cloth, Galen noticed — Alan had probably raided some haversacks. 

“What...” Galen sputtered.

“Let’s take them horses for a holiday,” Peet whispered, and again took the lead. 

He found the small gate without difficulty, Galen noticed; the human had probably amused himself with letting him stumble around in the darkness. Well, at least they were safely outside now; the horses, after initial confusion, seized the opportunity and began to graze, the pale light reflecting off their backs in a soft glow. It looked very peaceful.

And now they, too, would return to the peace and quiet of the human village.

“C’mon, Galen, we need you for part two.” Peet grabbed his arm and shoved him through the gate before Galen could react.

“What...  _ no!”  _

_ “Yes!  _ Don’t you wanna see what we’ve done?”

Curiosity teamed up with the alcohol and outvoted Galen’s common sense. He let the humans drag him back to the stable.

Eight hens were hitched up in the horse’s stands, one per booth. Some of them scratched gingerly in the straw; others had already settled down, obviously determined to get their night’s sleep no matter what or where.

Peet watched them solemnly, arms akimbo. “Damn, Al, if only we had more time,” he murmured. “You could make ‘em tiny saddles an’ stuff.”

There was a moment of contemplative silence. Then both humans broke down snorting with laughter, slapping each other’s back. Galen glanced between them and the chickens. He doubted the members of the watch would be as amused when they turned up for the morning shift. 

Which reminded him. “We should go before the sun is up!” And he had no idea when that would be!

The humans reluctantly let go of each other. Alan wiped at his eyes. Peet raked his hand through his hair, still wheezing. “Yeah, alright. Jus’ a second...” 

And he was gone again. Galen cursed him, silently, and cursed himself for allowing the humans to come with him, also silently. When Peet returned after a few moments, he was ready to curse him loudly, but before he could draw a breath, Peet pushed something heavy into his hand. “Your turn, bud!”

“What...?”

It was a bucket, that much Galen was able to ascertain while Peet dragged him back to the main entrance of the watch. This time, they wouldn’t try to sneak inside, Galen saw. 

In the light of the moon, the door was clearly, visibly blocked. A dark band run across it, and ran across the whole face of the building, vanishing around the edge. Peet had wrapped the whole house like a birthday present, had even made a huge bow at the door handle, with what seemed to be...

”... the plague band?”

“Found it in the storage room, along with the paint.” Peet gestured at the bucket in Galen’s hand. “Your turn.”

“My turn with what?”

“You gotta leave a message! Paint some pithy paroles!” Peet waved in the general directon of the unblemished facade of the watchhouse.

“Uh...” 

Despite his deeply felt fear and loathing of Urko, Galen found himself surprisingly reluctant to deface a public building, especially one of the police, and that reluctance had nothing to do with fear of getting caught. He didn’t want to examine the reasons for it too closely right now. “I, I have no idea what to write...”

Peet shrugged and turned to his companion. “Al? Any ideas?”

Alan contemplated the watch house for a moment. “How about, ‘Pendan Aerial Surveillance’?”

Peet cackled. “’The Flying Monkeys’!” 

“Well, strictly speaking, chickens can’t fly...”

Galen dropped the bucket. “I will  _ not  _ call a fellow ape a monkey! It is insulting to us!”

Peet grabbed him by the shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. “Galen, buddy, if there isn’t any simian stuff written on those walls, you know who your fellow apes will pin this on? The humans. And not on us, but on some poor slave minding their business.” He shook him slightly. “But if you write this? They’ll think it was some ape teenagers being silly. Nobody’ll get hurt. Think about it.”  He grinned. “Consider it your Dare.”

Galen thought about it. That is, he tried to think about it, but his nausea had worsened to the point where he had to take measured breaths so as not to throw up, and he didn’t feel equipped for an argument. He picked up the bucket and the brush, and obediently called the Pendan police officers ‘monkeys’ in writing. 

“Now, for the love of the Mothers, let’s leave!”

They had to make several detours on their way back to their gate this time, as Urko’s men spilled out of some tavern and were suddenly clogging the streets, and by the time they were finally outside the stockage, Galen had thrown up three times, and felt somewhat sober again. 

Sober and miserable. He only wanted to lay down on his cot in the village and sleep. 

The humans, on the other hand, were snorting and chuckling all the way back through the swamp. Then they almost got into a fight after Peet had playfully pinched Alan’s backside, which Galen agreed was disrespectful, but he still had to put his foot down and forbid Alan to punch Peet in the face, if only because Alan wasn’t able, and Galen wasn’t willing to carry a knocked-out Peet back to the village.

He didn’t really remember reaching the village or his bed. 

* * *

When Galen returned to consciousness — he wasn’t willing to call it ‘waking up’ — he noticed to his dismay that the nausea had returned in full force. It was accompanied by an equally vicious headache, and for a moment he wondered which of the two had pierced through his blissful blackout.

Maybe he could slide back into it if he didn’t move at all.

“Won’t work, I’m afraid.”

Alan’s voice was rough and deeper than normal, and sounded as miserable as Galen felt. 

“Sit up, Galen, and drink some water. That’ll help.”

Galen cracked his eyes open, and immediately wished he hadn’t. “Close the curtains, please,” he croaked. He heard Alan limp across the room, and the stabbing brightness softened into twilight. He forced himself to sit up; the headache exploded once more. 

He moaned.

Alan returned and offered him a mug. “Welcome to the morning after,” he murmured. “That’s some hell of a hangover.”

“You can say that again,” Galen agreed miserably.

“Yeah, but didn’t you say that apes aren’t affected by our weak human stuff?” Peet’s voice. Had he been in the room with them all this time? Galen squinted at him; the human was sitting at the table, looking pale and drawn, but otherwise in a despicably good mood. 

_ “You _ don’t seem to be affected very much,” Galen observed.

Peet shrugged. “I’ve got practice.”

“And that means you weren’t half as drunk as you acted last night, either?”

Something in Alan’s voice made Galen look up. The human’s eyes were narrowed, and he was watching his younger friend carefully.

Peet raised his eyebrows, a picture of innocence. “Dunno what you mean, Al. I don’t remember much from last night, so I must’ve been pretty hammered.”

Alan snorted. “You really want to tell me you don’t remember  _ anything?” _

Peet shrugged. “We were stumbling around the swamp a lot. And I think I remember some chickens...”

Alan cleared his throat. “You were coming on to me!” 

Peet stared at him for a moment. Galen thought his face reddened a bit, but it was hard to tell under the tan. Zana had claimed that this was a sign of embarrassment. And Peet did look caught...

But then he laughed. “What, me? Never!”

“Repeatedly.”

Galen noted with interest that Alan’s face had definitely reddened — but he wasn’t really sure whether this meant that Alan was embarrassed, too. A red face could also mean anger, though the rest of Alan’s stance didn’t indicate anger. It was all so complicated sometimes. 

“Well...” Peet said slowly. A sly grin spread on his face. “If I offered myself to you more than once, you must’ve sent pretty mixed signals.”

Alan blinked, for a moment at a loss for words. 

Peet shrugged. “Maybe you jus’ couldn’t make up your mind...”

Alan visibly shook himself out of his stupor. “You... that’s... you’re not half as funny as you think you are!”

Peet grinned, and got up. Incidentally or not, the table was now between him and Alan, and the curtain at his back. “Jus’ let me know if you ever need a helping hand.” He waggled his eyebrows.” That’s what friends are for!”

He ducked out of the room before Alan had recovered. 

For a moment, nobody said a word. 

Alan cleared his throat again. ”... probably has some residual alcohol still in his system.”

“Ah, ah, yes.” Galen was happy to agree. “And, and he’s... well, he  _ was  _ quite mischievous, before Urko... I mean. Maybe it’s a good sign that he’s up for, for pranks and jokes again.”

Alan rubbed his neck. His face was still redder than usual. “Yes. You’re right. It’s good to have the old Burke back...” Under his breath he added, “even if he’s sometimes a pain in the... uhm.”

Galen emptied his mug and decided that breakfast was not an option today. He struggled to his feet. “Well, headache or not, there are patients waiting for us, Alan. Let’s see how they have made it through the night.”

“Better than we, I bet,” Alan said, and followed him outside. 

Galen didn’t acknowledge that last remark. He was ready to forget all about last night, especially his own part in defiling a public building and calling fellow apes ‘monkeys’. As embarrassing Peet’s latest teasing was for Alan, Galen hoped he’d keep it up for a long time. If the humans were busy snarking at each other, they’d hopefully forget about the blunder committed by the ape in their midst...

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Disliked it? Despised it? Let me know, the suspense is killing me! 😌


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